


divide me down to the smallest I can be (put your venom in me)

by styliamson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, eleanor is a lesbian, harry is a nerd, like really minor they just makeout sometimes, louis is a stoner, minor zouis, niall and barbara rule the school, read it for her, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 16:16:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3256361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/styliamson/pseuds/styliamson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Hello,” he manages, glancing around the circle and trying not to feel scrutinized under everyone’s beady eyes; especially the harsh green ones right next to him, burning holes into his temple. He swallows loudly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m Louis, I’m a senior, and,” he cuts off, trying to slow his brain enough to make a single thought stand still for just one fucking second. He can barely even remember the question, let alone the titles of the very small amount of books he’s read. “Catcher in the Rye, is my favorite book,” he blurts, and he doesn’t mention that he’s pretty sure it’s the only book he’s actually read, therefore his favorite only by default, “and I’m really fucking high right now.”</em>
</p><p>Or, an American high school au where Harry runs a book club and Louis doesn’t read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	divide me down to the smallest I can be (put your venom in me)

**Author's Note:**

> hey! this isnt finished but i dont want to delete it. i probably wont continue it. maybe i will. read it anyway, thanks.  
> title from uma thurman by fall out boy.

Louis rolls the thin joint back and forth between his fingers, eyeing it disapprovingly. It’s a really wimpy joint in all honesty, and he’s rather disappointed in it, but neither he nor Zayn get their paycheck for the week until Thursday so they couldn’t afford much more. It’s definitely better than nothing though, so he sticks it in his mouth and lights the end with his sharpie covered lighter. He can see it wearing off, bits of white peeking through the sloppily scribbled black, and makes a mental note to recolor it soon.

“Zayn,” he says around the joint in his mouth, just before he inhales. He holds it for a second, letting it settle in his lungs before smoothly breathing it out, smoke swirling and expanding in the warm air. “D’you have a sharpie?”

Zayn rolls his eyes and steals the joint from Louis’ fingers, taking a hit for himself. Everything is already a little fuzzy around the edges, and Louis can start to feel every flutter of muscle in his body, tongue like sandpaper. He chews on it like a piece of gum, because he really doesn’t understand why it’s there, and then the joint is back between his fingers before he even registers it. He gives his tongue a rest and takes another hit, attempting (and failing) to blow smoke O’s. He pouts, because Zayn can do it flawlessly, and he always makes it looks so _easy_.

He’s completely forgotten about what he asked until Zayn is exchanging the joint in his hands for a marker. Louis looks at it between his fingers for a few seconds before he uncaps it excitedly and picks up his lighter, filling in the scattered white blotches. Zayn watches him with amused eyes while he takes his hit, laughing slightly under his breath.

“That’s bullshit, you know?” He snickers, handing the joint back to Louis. Louis scoffs and rolls his eyes, taking another hit. Zayn thinks he knows _everything_ just because he takes AP English.

Zayn snorts, and Louis is assuming he unknowingly just said that out loud. He does that a lot when he’s high, brain to mouth filter thrown carelessly to the wind, but he can’t really be bothered to care; especially not when the clouds above his head are swirling a litter faster than usual and he feels like he’s right up there with them, limbs weightless and head foggy.

“Not everything, just that the color of a _lighter_ definitely can’t affect your high.”

“Whatever. Rather be safe than sorry, you know?”

Zayn laughs pretty hard at that. Louis doesn’t really understand why, considering it wasn’t even supposed to be funny, but before he knows it, he’s laughing too, clutching his stomach with one hand and the joint with the other. He doesn’t even know what they’re laughing at. _Why the hell is this illegal?_ he thinks.

“Couldn’t tell you,” Zayn responds, shaking his head sadly.

Louis leans up and away from the tree, bark scraping against his back and turns to face Zayn. He plucks the joint from his hands and puts it between his own lips, smirking around it at Zayn and raising his eyebrows in question. Zayn looks up at him, expectant, a small grin curling his lips, and nods slowly. Louis grins back around the joint and crawls over to Zayn, straddling his lap. He inhales smoke into his lungs and holds it for a second, leaning over to cup Zayn’s sharp jaw in his nimble hand. Zayn grins wider and opens his mouth as Louis brings his own down to meet it, brushing their lips and exhaling the smoke into Zayn’s mouth. Zayn inhales slowly, until the smoke has fully transferred from Louis’ mouth to his, then tugs Louis in by the back of his neck and closes the gap, bringing their lips together for an open mouthed kiss. It’s sloppy and dirty, and honestly indecent considering they’re still technically on school grounds. Eventually they’re both laughing – at what, Louis isn’t sure – so it’s not much of a kiss at that point, but their lips are still brushing against each other when they hear a brash shouting in the distance. They pull apart slowly, looking up to see a blonde head of hair on two toothpick legs bounding toward them.

“Oi! None of that on school property!” Niall shouts, and Louis laughs as he rolls off of Zayn’s lap. He takes another quick hit from the joint and blows it right into Niall’s face. Niall laughs and waves his hands in front of his face, trying to halfheartedly waft the smoke away before holding out his hand.

“Gimme.” He says, and Zayn chuckles softly while Louis raises an eyebrow, passing him the joint.

“Mr. Class President breaking the rules, I see,” he teases, and Niall laughs while taking a hit.

“ _Vice_ president,” he corrects. “Babs has the president role locked down. I could never live up to her legacy,” he says on his exhale, smoke curling out of his mouth. Louis can’t help but nod and agree with Niall, because really, Barbara is the best class president they’ve had since Louis has been stuck in this damn school. And he’s been here for five, long years.

“She really is the best,” Zayn agrees verbally, and Louis nods again, accepting the joint Niall hands to him.

“God, don’t I know it,” Niall sighs fondly, before leaning over and snatching the joint from Louis’ fingers before he even takes his hit. Louis looks at him incredulously.

“ _Hey_ , it’s my turn, you ass!” He shouts, jumping up and tackling Niall, trying to wrestle the joint from his grip. Niall laughs loudly and sticks it in his mouth, breathing in long and hard and holding it for three seconds before blowing it straight into Louis’ face. Louis splutters and coughs, smacking Niall on the shoulder as he relents and rolls off of him, grabbing the joint on his way. He dusts off his shirt and holds the burnt down stub at eye level, inspecting it carefully while rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Boys, it looks like we each get one more hit,” he announces, and Niall groans and takes it from Louis’ hand again, sucking it in on another inhale before Louis’ slow brain even has a chance at catching up and stopping him.

He sighs out the smoke and hands Zayn the joint, leaning back on his hands. “I gotta go to my mate’s club after school, and I’m sure as hell not gonna be sober for _that_.” He laughs, and Zayn nods sympathetically, passing him the joint again after taking his hit. Louis would argue that it’s his turn, but he feels Niall’s pain, he really does. If he was forced to stay after school for longer than he absolutely had to, he doesn’t think he’d be able to be sober for it either. Plus his head is positively whirring, thoughts jumbled incoherently and colors flashing behind his eyelids whenever he blinks. He thinks he’s definitely high enough.

“What club?” Zayn asks.

“ _Book club_.” He snorts. “I literally can’t fucking remember the last book I read.”

Louis’ scrunches up his nose in distaste, because now he _really_ feels for Niall. He would probably rather chop his own pinky finger off and sew it to his forehead than read a book. He pats Niall on the shoulder heartily, passing him the joint again.

“Here, you get the honors.” He says grandly, presenting Niall gracefully with the tiny stub. Niall laughs again, taking it happily. Louis leans down onto his back, crossing his arms behind his head and watching the smoke from Niall’s lips swirl with the moving clouds. He reaches a hand out to try and grab the intangible smoke, but as expected, his fist just closes around air. He pouts uselessly, tracing the shapes of the clouds with his fingertip. He wonders what they’re doing up there, if they’re happy with their lives suspended in the big infinite sky. He thinks he’d quite like to be a cloud, then he thinks that really, he _is_ a cloud at this moment, ears stuffed with cotton and body floating and weightless, dangling above the ground like a marionette of the man on the moon. He doesn’t know if he’d rather be a puppet on a string or a cloud suspended in space. He watches an airplane fly straight through one, leaving a flurry of white in its wake and decides that being a cloud doesn’t really sound ideal if the airplanes will never leave him alone.

“We’ll come, right Lou?”

Louis sits up abruptly at the mention of his name, and Zayn is giving him his _you-totally-fucking-owe-me-so-you’re-going-to-say-yes-to-whatever-I’m-suggesting_ look. Louis figures it’s not worth fighting, so he shrugs his assent. Niall claps happily.

“Fucking sick! Harry’s gonna be thrilled,” he cheers, pumping his fist in the air triumphantly. Louis still has no idea what he’s talking about. Niall looks down at his wrist quickly, squints, and then sighs, moving onto his feet. “Club starts soon, we should get going.”

He’s not even wearing a fucking watch.

Louis doesn’t protest though, just shrugs and reaches for Niall’s hand to help him up. Once he’s on his feet he loops his arms through Niall’s and skips toward the school. Niall laughs loudly and eagerly joins, leaping in an obscure mixture between a gallop and a skip alongside Louis and shouting some song Louis has never heard at the top of his lungs. Louis shouts something incoherent, then sloppily kisses Niall on the temple. Zayn stalks behind them, laughing quietly under his breath.

==

There are four people in the classroom. Four.

Louis is trying exceptionally hard not to laugh, and that is a really incredible feat given how fucking high he is right now. He should get some sort of award for this.

“I should get an award for this,” he whispers in Zayn’s ear, who just pats his back reassuringly.

“I’ll buy you lunch,” Zayn tells him, and fuck _yes_ , now that Louis thinks of it, he’s fucking starving. Lunch sounds like the single greatest thing that could ever happen to him at this moment.

“I’ll hold you to that, Malik.” He responds, and Zayn just laughs into his ear.

He scans the room and recognizes Niall’s girlfriend, sitting in the corner and typing away on her phone. She looks up to the sound of them walking in, and her nostrils flare as she stands up abruptly, almost knocking over the chair. She stomps over to Niall and pokes him in the chest. He stumbles back from the force of it, even though it looks like she barely even applied any pressure.

“Where the fuck were you?” She hisses, pushing him against the wall. Niall looks at her with wide eyes.

“I was-“

“Are you fucking _high_?” she cuts him off, and he smiles guiltily. She looks over at Louis and Zayn quickly, inspecting their bloodshot eyes and drooping eyelids. They smile back at her happily, and Louis gives her a small wave. She rolls her eyes with a smile tugging at her lips and turns back to Niall. She shoves his shoulder lightly.

“And you didn’t invite me?” Barbara accuses, and Niall laughs loudly, resting his hand on her neck.

“Sorry babe,” he says, and before Louis can even blink, they’re kissing – if the way they’re tonguing all over each other’s faces could even be classified as a kiss. Louis is positive Niall just licked her forehead.

He shudders and turns back to the room, noticing next a muscly boy with big, brown eyes, and thick eyebrows scrunched together, creasing his forehead. He looks like he could positively wreck you and then kiss your cheek and buy you a puppy afterwards, thick biceps bulging behind the fabric of his flannel and he isn’t even _flexing_. Louis wants to give him a hug and a cuddle or get bent over and fucked by him, either one works.

Louis recognizes Eleanor from his math class sitting next to him, and she looks over at them and waves excitedly at Louis. Then she notices Zayn, her eyes widen slightly, and then she’s tapping Muscle Boy next to her softly on the shoulder. He looks up and makes eye contact momentarily with Louis, giving him a friendly smile before before shifting his gaze to Zayn, and the reaction is comical. His cheeks redden as soon as they make eye contact, and he abruptly drops his head between his shoulders, looking down at his lap. The girl laughs quietly before smacking the guy harshly on the shoulder.

And then there’s one other person in the room, and Louis turns to take a look at him and it’s like everything just freezes, and all he can think is _holy fucking shit_.

“Holy fucking shit,” He breathes, and he doesn’t even realize he’s actually said it aloud until Niall is cackling beside him.

“That’s the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen,” he ignores Niall and leans over to whisper to Zayn, not taking his eyes off the boy. He doesn’t get a response, so he nudges Zayn in the side with his elbow. Louis still doesn’t look at him, but he can see in his periphery that Zayn is still not paying attention to him, and that’s just not on. He painfully tears his gaze away from the boy to demand Zayn’s full attention, and Zayn is staring intently at Muscle Boy across the room. Louis wonders what is up with those two, sneaking glances and blushing all over the damn place. It’s then that the dots connect and oh. _Oh_. That must be the infamous Liam Payne, Homecoming King, Captain of the Football Team, and alleged boyfriend of Cheerleading Captain Eleanor Calder (whom Louis is almost _positive_ is actually a lesbian) that Zayn never, ever shuts the fuck up about. Louis is suddenly three hundred percent on board with this club, if it’ll actually get Zayn to talk to toughen up and speak to this guy he’s been hopelessly grieving about for months. Louis has had to endure too many stories about every miniscule thing Liam does when Zayn watches him creepily during English class.

He nudges Zayn knowingly and waves a hand in front of his face. Zayn flinches and then looks at Louis, caught, and his cheeks are red. Flaming. Zayn is _blushing_. Louis has never seen anything like it, and Zayn _knows_ he’s caught, because he ducks his head trying to fight the smile tugging the corners of his mouth and hide his cheeks, red as blood.

“Are you _blushing_?” Louis teases, and Zayn shakes his head and covers his face with his hands.

“Shut up,” he mumbles and Louis clicks his tongue and shakes his head disbelievingly.

“Never thought I’d see the day, Malik,” he laughs, patting Zayn on the back. “You’re _weak_.”

Just then, Pretty Boy clears his throat and there he is, standing tall at the front of the room, a big, charming grin on his stupidly pretty face. And all Louis can think is a mantra of _fuckfuckfuck_ because he actually has _dimples_. Louis thinks he’s already halfway in love. At _least_.

“Hello,” He drawls, speaking painfully slow. His voice is thick and low like molasses; rocky like the satisfying crunch of gravel beneath your sneakers on the trail to the beach. Louis doesn’t know what he was expecting him to sound like when he first saw him, but it definitely wasn’t _this_. He looks like some kind of an overgrown child, with big cheeks and bright lips and wild, curly hair mopped on his head. He’s got these lovely, long legs clad in loose jeans that hang almost too low on his hips, and a plain white t shirt that clings to his shoulders and chest, displaying prominent collarbones and a practically never ending torso. Louis wants to touch him all over. Literally, all over. _Everywhere_. He wants to run his hands down his flat chest and over his lips and through his untamed hair, he wants to circle his wrists with his fingertips and he wants to suck love bites into his inner thighs and his hipbones and he wants to run his thumbs over his nipples – which he can see right through his thin t-shirt, _jesus fucking_ – and he wants to nibble and suck on his bottom lip, his throat, his biceps and anywhere else it’s physically possible for him to get his mouth on. He wants it _all_.

Louis looks up with a start and finds that everyone is sitting on the floor, talking amongst themselves, save the boy, who is watching Louis watch him. Zayn is looking up from the floor, a smug smirk plastered on his dumb face and very clearly trying to hold back a laugh.

Louis sits down quickly in the only empty spot in the circle, dropping to the floor next to Zayn. He looks up once he’s sitting and Green Eyes is looking at him with wide eyes and crimson flushed cheeks. Louis winks at him. Zayn is shaking with how hard he’s laughing under his breath, and he shoves at Louis’ shoulder harder than he probably meant to. Louis only winces a little.

“Who’s weak _now_?” Zayn asks, raising his eyebrows. Louis shrugs, rubbing his arm.

“He’s hot, what can I say?” Louis defends, leaning back on his hands. The room is filled with mingled murmurs, and Curly is just standing in the center of it all, staring intently at the ground. He jerks out of it, and physically shakes himself, dropping down into the spot next to Louis, squeezing between him and Niall. Louis nudges him and he jolts a little, turning quickly to face Louis. His cheeks are still red as apples. Louis smiles warmly, and hopes it doesn’t come off as too smug.

“So, who forced you to come here?” He asks smoothly, looking him right in the eye and not letting up his smile. The boy’s mouth droops abruptly and he looks like if he was in a cartoon, there’d be question marks dancing above his head.

“I’m sorry?” He asks, and Louis laughs a little under his breath.

“You know, who bribed you to come? I doubt anyone is here voluntarily, actually. I had to practically be dragged here by my hair.” He’s over exaggerating, of course, considering he came pretty willingly, but he doesn’t want to come off as some kind of loser in front of this incredibly attractive boy; especially not when Louis has very explicit plans that involve his mouth and this guy’s _everything_.

He just gapes at him, though, closing and opening his mouth repeatedly. Louis is about to clarify, because he _knows_ he’s charming, okay, but he doesn’t think it should be eliciting this immobilizing reaction, when the boy claps his hands loudly, garnering everyone’s attention in the room. Louis pouts a little, and he’s really quite offended, because they were kind of in the middle of a conversation. But then the boy is speaking, and all Louis can think is _oh_ _fuck_.

“Hello,” he says curtly, addressing everyone in the room. They all calmly return his greeting with small waves, and Niall and Barbara actually pull away from their gross love fest to start paying attention. Louis has no idea what’s even happening, until the boy speaks again.

“I’m Harry, and this is my book club.”

Louis doesn’t think the blood has ever drained from his face faster.

He’s positive he’s pale as a ghost, and he’s also fairly sure he looks like a fucking imbecile, openly gaping at whom he now knows is _Harry_ , Niall’s best friend, and leader of the fucking book club. The very same book club he’s at right now, and the very same book club just openly insulted. Fuck.

Everyone returns his greeting and Louis just sits, and stares at the wall. What does he say when he’s just inadvertently insulted one of the hottest guys he’s ever met? Who is also one of his best friend’s best friend? How do they come back from this?

Harry pays no attention to his internal turmoil and keeps talking, lips curved slightly at the edges.

“So, I think it’s important to be acquainted with the people you discuss literature with,” Harry says, and right now Louis is thankful he’s been rendered immobile because he’s positive he wouldn’t have been able to hold back a laugh at that line. “Let’s just go around the circle and say your name, grade, favorite book, and one fact about yourself.” He gives the group a warm smile, which is happily returned by everyone besides Louis, who is still pale as snow and staring at the wall. Niall claps a hand onto Harry’s shoulder.

“Good plan, Haz. I’ll go first,” he offers, and clears his throat overdramatically. “I’m Niall, I’m a senior, and really I don’t think I’ve ever _read_ a book but one time in third grade, I ate one.” He says, grinning hugely around the circle. Everyone stares at him blankly. Harry hits his shoulder

“That was _my_ book, you dickhead,” Harry mumbles, and Niall laughs louder than necessary.

“Yeah, mate, it was! One of your damn smart books with the big words.” He recalls, shaking his head. “I swear Greg told me once if you don’t feel like reading, you can just eat it and absorb the words through your kidneys or some shit.” Niall explains, as if that’s even close to a logical thought process. Harry snorts out a laugh, and Louis thinks it’s the cutest sound he’s heard in his entire life.

“Yeah, and Greg once told me if I put the toaster in the bath with me, a sprite would climb out of the drain and grant me three wishes.” He looks at Niall pointedly. Niall shrugs.

“One time he told me that I should never trust beautiful things, because we never know what the flowers are doing when our backs are turned.” Liam speaks up, and there’s a pause.

“That’s kinda deep, man.” Zayn says.

Liam blinks, like he’s not sure who Zayn is talking to, but when Liam turns to him and realizes that yes, Zayn is actually talking to him, his cheeks go up in flames. Louis finds it all extremely amusing.

“Yeah, it was uh, kind of profound, you know,” Liam stutters scratching the back of his neck. “Didn’t make much sense to me at first, I’ll be honest, but then after I –“

“How the fuck do you know my brother?” Niall cuts him off. Liam looks startled, then he blushes even _deeper_ once he realizes he’d been rambling, and he averts his eyes from Zayn quickly to look at Niall.

“Sometimes I go on runs, and I see Greg in the woods. He talks some weird shit,” Liam answers. Niall sighs. Harry raises an eyebrow.

“Isn’t Greg –“

“Yeah,” Niall cuts him off, rubbing his temple exasperatedly. Louis is so fucking lost, and he doesn’t think it’s just him if the matching confused looks around the room are anything to go by. Niall meets everyone’s eyes and shrugs.

“It is what it is,” he says cryptically, and Louis is no less confused but he does whoop and give Niall a fist bump at the reference.

They go around the rest of the circle clockwise, Barbara after Niall, saying her favorite book is _Cat in the Hat_ (i _t’s a fucking classic_ , Niall defends when Eleanor snorts at the answer), and that she’s a model (which then prompts Niall to wrap an arm snug around her waist and glare threateningly at everyone in the room, as if anyone would even try). Then it’s Eleanor who shamelessly proclaims her love for _The Fault in Our Stars_ , and says she’s head of the cheer squad, which everyone already knew. Then Liam says he doesn’t read and that he’s actually failing English, and Louis perks up at that and shoves Zayn with his elbow. Zayn looks at him and Louis raises his eyebrows, flicking his gaze to Liam and then back to Zayn, lifting his eyebrows repeatedly. Zayn blushes, again, and shakes his head rapidly. Louis sighs and shoves him again, sending him a glare, which he hopes says _you are definitely not getting out of this_. And then it’s Zayn’s turn, and he talks quietly about his love for Stephen King and says his favorite work is _Carrie_ , and that he likes to draw. _Likes to draw,_ Louis thinks with an internal scoff. That’s got to be the understatement of the fucking century. Zayn is an _artist_ , he can do virtually anything; paint, sketch, graffiti, sculpt. Louis could present him with any type of medium, and he’d look at it for one second before transforming it into something absolutely breathtaking. And even just from Zayn’s modest confession, Liam still looks at him like he’s the second coming of Christ. Louis wants to gag, honestly, they’re both so disgustingly obvious.

Then it’s Louis’ turn. He smacks his lips together a few times because _fuck_ , his mouth is unbearably dry, he could really use some water. He shakes his head and tries to collect his swirling thoughts for at least a second before speaking.

“Hello,” he manages, glancing around the circle and trying not to feel scrutinized under everyone’s beady eyes; especially the harsh green ones right next to him, burning holes into his temple. He swallows loudly.

“I’m Louis, I’m a senior, and,” he cuts off, trying to slow his brain enough to make a single thought stand still for just _one fucking second_. He can barely even remember the question, let alone the titles of the very small amount of books he’s read. “Catcher in the Rye, is my favorite book,” he blurts, and he doesn’t mention that he’s pretty sure it’s the _only_ book he’s actually read, therefore his favorite only by default, “and I’m really fucking high right now.”

He freezes.

That was definitely not what he intended to say.

Niall snorts, Zayn groans, and Harry scoffs disbelievingly, mumbling something under his breath that has Niall smacking his shoulder and hissing “ _be nice_.” Louis feels like he was just obliterated by a dump truck.

“Alright,” Harry says, lips pressed tight in irritation. Louis wants to apologize and start over, take back everything he’s said since he walked in the door, but he knows he can’t. “Since this is the first meeting, we’re just going to talk about the books you mentioned, if that’s alright. Zayn, you said Stephen King?”

At this Zayn lights up, nodding excitedly. “Yeah, have you read?”

Harry nods aggressively, curls flying everywhere. “Yes! I love his work,” he says, expression going from a grim frown to a face-splitting smile in the blink of an eye, dimples cratering his cheeks. And if Harry’s laugh is the cutest thing Louis has ever heard in his entire life, then his dimples are the cutest things Louis has ever _seen_ in his entire life. They’re like little pools of soft, smooth skin, small in theory but gigantic in proportion to the rest of his cheeks. They’re more endearing than a facial mutation has any right to be. Louis wants to poke one so badly.

He doesn’t, though, because he is still technically classified as a sane person, regardless of his current inebriated state, and he’s fairly certain Harry actually hates him at this point so he definitely wouldn’t appreciate Louis assaulting his face. Louis settles on sighing wistfully and propping his chin on the heel of his hand, watching the way Harry’s lips form around the words, and the way his hair is sitting carefully mussed on his head. He has lovely hair, Louis thinks, stray curls flying in various directions and fringe flopping onto his forehead. Louis wants to push it back and pet his head and kiss him right between his eyes, and _okay_ , Louis has no idea where that came from. Louis’ thoughts usually never stray from _I want to fuck him_ or _I want him to fuck me_ , and although those thoughts are also circulating in his head, these new ones are unfamiliar and uncharted territory, but not necessarily unwelcome. It’s just, Harry is so _pretty_ , and soft and endearing and absolutely _lovely_ and Louis can’t be blamed for the places his mind is going, really.

And if it’s creepy that he watches Harry discuss Stephen King animatedly with Zayn for the rest of the half hour, then oh well. He has bigger things to worry about, like how exactly he’s planning to sweep Harry off his – gigantic, Louis might add – feet.

By the time the afterschool bell rings, and everyone begins standing from the ground and shuffling out the door, Louis has come up with basically nothing. And on top of it, he’s devastatingly sober. He looks over and meets Harry’s gaze, and he sighs almost involuntarily at the sight, because Harry is even more beautiful without the hazy fog clouding Louis’ vision. Harry’s eyes harden and his lips flatten out and he flicks his face away the second they make eye contact. Louis’ heart crumples and he wants to stomp his foot petulantly in frustration; he doesn’t even _know_ this kid, and all he wants to do is impress him. It’s beyond unfair, in Louis’ opinion.

Zayn comes up behind him and smacks the back of his head lightly, passing Louis his backpack. Louis sighs and takes it, slinging it over one shoulder and turning to wave goodbye to Liam and Eleanor, who are still standing in the room talking to Harry.

“Bye El, bye Liam, bye Harry!” Louis shouts, giving them each a big wave. Eleanor happily returns it, shouting “bye, Lou!” and Liam looks right past his shoulder and at Zayn, giving him a timid wave goodbye. Louis just barely holds back a scoff; they’re horrendous. Harry ignores him. Louis figures that was what was bound to happen, but he’s still mildly disappointed. He sighs again and swings his arm over Zayn’s shoulder, guiding him quickly out of the room. He doesn’t want to be in there a second longer than necessary.

“Now, I believe you owe me lunch?”


End file.
